


The Importance of Conversation

by OllyJay



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: Rosie had always said that he didn’t talk enough about how he was feeling… well, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time.Just a bit of nonsense inspired by a conversation between Fire_Sign and Whopooh in the comments of Fire_Sign's excellent PFF ficFootnote.





	

He looked at the door; wooden, brass knob and number, solid. A glance at his watch, right on time. God, why was he so nervous? He looked at the door again. Rosie had always said that he didn’t talk enough about how he was feeling… well, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time. He took a deep breath and straightened his tie, he would tell her exactly what he was thinking and… hopefully, she would tell him she felt the same way. How hard could it be? He knocked on the door, almost losing his balance when it swung inward immediately.

“Jack,” she purred.

“Miss… Phryne,” he stammered. Christ, not the best of starts, he thought.

“Are you going to stand out there all night?”

“No… sorry… um,” he was slightly confused by the fact that she was blocking the doorway.

“Come here, Jack.” She reached out her hand for his tie pulling him into the room far enough that she could kick the door closed behind him. 

And then her body was pressed against him, oh and she was wonderfully soft and warm, and her lips? They were exactly how he remembered them. It was hard to pull away but he was determined to get this right. “We should talk.”

She looked surprised, “You want to talk?”

“I think, it’s important…”

“No, sorry you’re right, it's just,” she stepped towards him, putting her hands on his shoulders, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen you and I’ve been looking forward to this,” she pressed her lips to his again, “but tell me, what do you want to talk about?”

It was very hard to think when she was so close, smelling so good, what the hell had he wanted to say? Oh, that’s right, feelings. 

She took his silence as an indication that he had changed his mind about the talking and used it as a chance to explore the other possibilities his mouth offered.

“I should tell you…” he put his hands on her hips meaning to push her away but instead found himself pulling her in hard against him, “tell you…” he murmured against her lips.

She pulled back, but only enough to look into his eyes, “I’m sorry Jack, what?”

“…how I feel,” he dropped his lips to her neck. “Don’t you want to know how I feel?” 

“Jack, there is nothing I want to know more,” she agreed, pulling him with her further into the room, “I have spent hours imagining how you feel. Why don’t we get started on that right now?” She began to undo the buttons of his jacket.

“That’s not” his jacket slid to the ground and she started on his waistcoat buttons, “what I meant.”

She undid his tie and the top three buttons of his shirt, burying her head into the curve at the base of his neck, to kiss the bare skin she had dreamed about for so long. “Can we do this first? And then I promise we’ll talk,” she carried on undoing his buttons, pushing his shirt down his arms, “about anything you like.”

This was not how he had thought this conversation would play out. He felt her hands undoing his trousers.

“Shoes.”

“Sorry?”

“Take off your shoes, Jack” she stepped back to release the buttons of her dress, letting it drop to the floor. 

He stared at her, she was naked and beyond doubt the most incredible thing he had ever seen. She walked around him, letting her fingers trail across his skin just above where his trousers hung loosely on his hips. She placed a series of small kisses across his back, “Why don’t you finish getting undressed?” she whispered into his ear.

That was the best idea he had heard in months. He kicked off his shoes, quickly dispatching the rest of his clothes and turned to take her into his arms, hungry for her mouth. He let her push him back until he could feel the edge of the bed at the back of his legs.

She broke the kiss, “Still want to talk?”

He shook his head, letting himself fall back on the bed and pulling her naked body down on top of him. Fuck it - talking was over-rated and he much preferred Phryne’s way of communicating anyway.


End file.
